


If Only

by LeoDios



Category: Men's Football RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: After Party, Boys Kissing, El Clásico, FC Barcelona, M/M, Real Madrid CF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-26 10:10:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17743922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoDios/pseuds/LeoDios
Summary: At a clandestine el clasico afterparty, Sergio Ramos tries to get to know Leo Messi a little better.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MessiFangirl (hpdm4ever)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hpdm4ever/gifts).



> Hello all, after a long ass break I decided to write a short fic involving the strange and intriguing pairing of Sergio Ramos and Leo Messi. This is for the weirdos who ship this pair, wherever and whoever you may be! <3

"If only the world knew eh?" Sergio Ramos says casually, moving closer and doing a kind of weird stretch along the dark wood surface of the bar. 

 

Leo Messi shrinks inside his body a little bit - without really even moving. Like he's found this sudden intrusion into his private space a bit jarring. Sergio is perceptive enough to notice that as expansive and tactile as he is, Leo is the opposite. He's not feeling it right now, clearly.

 

So he moves back a little, picks up his beer and takes a sip.

 

Leo sighs. Sighs as in,  _oh you want me to say something now._

 

Sergio knows he's making Leo uncomfortable, but Leo deserves it.

 

Would it kill him to be a little more friendly and open after so many years of knowing each other and fighting against each other?

 

"How are you feeling?" Leo says, unexpectedly.

 

"Oh fine," Sergio says, "how are you? Your leg?"

 

Leo gives him a look. A look that reminds Sergio that he's talking to the enemy and any information can be used against you in the next battle.

 

"Oh come on," he says, "I'm asking as a friend."

 

Leo snorts derisively, which irritates Sergio a bit. He turns away and focuses on his drink. They are completely alone now, the bartender having gone off somewhere. But this is a bar belonging to Gerard Pique's friend, or cousin or something. When they come here after el clasico, there are no members of the public to worry about. They can go behind the bar and get whatever they want. There are a countless luxuriously furnished private rooms in the warren-like space that you can go to if you want some private time with a friend. Or an enemy.

 

He has no idea where anyone else is. From time to time he hears shouting and laughter from some room or the other. He's here more for the tradition than anything else at this point. He is not even really drunk. Sure he is a bit horny, but that's normal for him after a high intensity game.

 

Leo is often to be found alone at these things, wrapped up in himself. If he's in a good mood, he sticks to celebrating with his own team. He's friendly enough, but you're meant to mix it up and get messy with the enemy during these clandestine clasico after parties. But Leo doesn't really participate. He's just there because everyone else is there.

 

Of course he would have a drink with Cristiano, before Cristiano fucked off to Italy. Cris would make a point of going to whatever corner Leo was tucked away in, with some expensive bottle of something or the other that Cris had saved just for the occasion. It was kind of sweet, the way Cris wouldn't share with anybody else! Sergio smiles to himself, thinking about the way Cris would make a big deal about it -  _and this particular bottle cost so and so, and it's only for Messi and me because no one else deserves it!_

That bastard.

 

There were rumours over the years, about Cris and Leo, but nothing concrete. Maybe they slipped away to one of the rooms at some point in the night, but Sergio never really noticed who did what with whom. It was probably better that way.

 

He feels himself being watched and glances in Leo's direction. Leo has an almost-smile on his face. Before Sergio can ask what the fuck he is looking at, Leo blurts out.

 

"Now tell me what you're thinking of!"

 

And then he goes red, bright lobster red from neck to forehead, tips of ears and everything. Sergio laughs and turns his body towards him.

 

"Why?"

 

"You had a smile on your face," Leo looks like he wishes he hadn't started this. But Sergio is glad for the opening.

 

"I was thinking about Cristiano and you. How he used to have a drink with you."

 

"Oh?"

 

And now Leo Messi stares at him, the lights are dim and his eyes shine like some wild cat.

 

Sergio nods.

 

"Do you miss him?"

 

Leo bites his lower lip.

 

" _No._ Do you?"

 

Sergio smiles.

 

"Not at all."

 

Leo smiles back, and there is something pained and beautiful in his smile. Something that makes Sergio want to reach out and touch him.

 

"Who do you miss then?" he asks instead.

 

Leo closes his eyes. and Sergio watches the white throat swallow hard. He feels caught between regret and curiosity. After all when will he ever get the chance to...

 

"I miss a lot of people," Leo finally says, opening his eyes.

 

"Would you miss me if I left?" Sergio asks, trying to lighten the mood, his tone teasing.

 

"Is there something to miss?"

 

Bastard.

 

Sergio takes this as a challenge. He leans in close and puts a hand on Leo's waist. He towers over him, which he likes. Leo stares up at him, his mouth slightly curved up in an expression that can only be described as defiant.

 

"Can I?" he asks in a low voice, and Leo closes his eyes in response. Sergio bends down and presses his mouth over Leo's, slips in his tongue teasingly.

 

How?

 

_How?_

How is it that he's in the corner of this deserted bar, making out with Leo Messi? He's pulled him off his stool, into his arms, between his legs, pushing his tongue deep inside his mouth, drawing it out, pushing it back in, slowly but very, very urgently, purposefully. And Leo is moaning softly, almost purring like a cat, grabbing his head with both hands, while he pushes closer, closer, closer-even-though-there-is-no-space-left-between-them...

 

Sergio moves his hands over Leo's waist - his fucking tiny waist - under his t-shirt, roaming around and feeling the pleasing lines of his muscles, but being really, really careful not to move his hands down to that rounded perfect ass. Because he is not sure what he'll do if he gets there. He knows what he  _wants_ to do, but he isn't quite sure what Leo wants yet.

 

They stop for breath, leaning their foreheads together. Sergio is hard and Leo is pressed up against him so he is aware, but he's not moving away, just grappling helplessly at his shirt now, his hands seemingly too weakened to hold on to anything. This pleases him very much, and he smiles. Moves his lips against Leo's lips, and Leo opens his eyes. Dark, dark pools. And the first time Sergio has seen quite this hazy look in Leo's otherwise always alert eyes, and he likes that. He likes it a lot.

 

He catches their reflection in the huge mirror on the wall opposite. He likes how Leo looks dishevelled and helpless in his arms. He moves his arms to support him better and Leo looks up at him, up through the long eyelashes, and he bites his lower lip with a little smile.

 

Unexpectedly he speaks -  _"_ if only the world knew eh?"

 

*

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a one-shot but I'm inspired! So here it is, enjoy and HAPPY Valentine's Day everyone. <3<3<3

Sergio Ramos doesn't have Leo Messi's phone number like he doesn't have his shirt. It's not because he's a  _cule._ He has the phone numbers and match shirts of many  _cules,_ and not just the Spanish ones. It's because he's not going to ask. And Leo is not going to ask. Sergio is not going to ask because what Leo does on the pitch, Sergio has always taken very personally. Yet, Leo doesn't take Sergio personally. He doesn't really seem to take  _anyone_ personally. And that offends Sergio's pride. So he's never going to ask, that's that.

 

It's stupid, of course. That shirt Leo held up to the Bernabeu? He wouldn't mind having it in his possession. But he would never actually ask for it. Especially since he'd been sent off earlier in that same match. His Madridista heart could barely admit to himself that he wanted it.

 

Sergio has been staring at his phone ever since he arrived back to his house in Madrid, very late after the match against Ajax. Those spirited youngsters had really pushed them to the limit, but they'd come through in the end - barely - and the adrenaline is still pumping. 

 

He really wants to call Leo. 

 

_Want._

He groans and throws his phone to the side. He can't. He just can't. They're not even in the same city. And he has his pride.

 

But how much pride does he really have? On the drive home, he's already made a mental note of who might have Leo's number. Who can he bother at this late hour to ask for it? It's too weird. He takes a deep breath and reaches for his phone.

 

Sergio usually hates texting, especially while asking for a favour. There's something lowkey dishonourable about that isn't there? But it's late, and if Gerard is sleeping, he wouldn't want to wake him up after all. If he's sleeping he won't answer, and that's fine. If he's up, he'll answer. No big deal.

 

He knows it's more because he a bit ashamed of what Geri might think,  _or say,_ when asked for Leo's number. He shakes himself out of his thoughts and goes for it.

 

_Hey, can I have Leo's number?_

_Are you in town??_

_No, I'm not..._

_So, this isn't a booty call situation?_

And on and on, for five minutes or so, and Geri finally relinquishes the precious digits.

 

He can't text him. So he calls. And it rings. And it rings some more. And Sergio's heart sinks. But there's also relief. He lies down on the sofa and stretches. And then suddenly...

 

"Hi?"

 

"Leo!" Sergio sits up, his throat suddenly dry and painful.

 

"Hey Sergio."

 

"Hey."

 

"Yeah?" Leo laughs a little, and Sergio cringes at his sudden loss of words.

 

"Sorry. Did I wake you?"

 

"Nah."

 

Well Leo Messi could never be accused of being easy to talk to!

 

"How come you're up so late?"

 

"What do you want Sergio?" He'd be embarrassed, but there's a lightness behind Leo's question that makes him smile to himself.

 

"Did you watch baby Barca tonight?"

 

"Did you call to gloat?"

 

"You support Ajax?"

 

"I support not-Madrid, of course," Leo says, unable to hide a slight grumpiness in his voice.

 

A current runs through Sergio at the thought of Leo watching him, especially since he's had a good match tonight.

 

"I'm sorry," he says, and Leo laughs softly.

 

"It was a good match," he says.

 

"Yeah."

 

There's an awkward few moments of silence.

 

"You know what I was thinking earlier?" he blurts out, just to fill the space.

 

"What?"

 

"We've never exchanged shirts."

 

"Yeah," Leo says, nonchalantly, "you've never asked."

 

Sergio almost guffaws at the naive arrogance of  _la pulga._ He doesn't say "maybe next time." Neither does Leo. 

 

But he needs to say  _something,_ and soon. Otherwise this foolishness is going nowhere. 

 

"I've been thinking about you," he says, deciding on honesty.

 

"Hmm."

 

"You?"

 

"What?"

 

"You haven't been thinking about me?"

 

"Not really."

 

Leo's voice has changed. It's gone very low, very dark. It's...sexy. Sergio sits up.

 

"I don't believe you."

 

"Mmm hmm."

 

"You know why?"

 

"Why Sergio?"

 

Sergio takes a deep breath in response to Leo's low, lingering caress of his name.

 

"That night you were..."

 

"Hmm?"

 

Leo wants him to say it, describe it, relive it. Sergio closes his eyes and takes another deep breath, a little moan escapes him - and he knows Leo's heard it. His heart is pounding hard.

 

He sees them together in that mirror across the bar. Leo in his arms, pressing against his hard cock, opening his mouth to his probing tongue. Sergio presses his mouth against his phone and licks his lips. He hears a little gasp from Leo on the other end.

 

"You were really turned on," he finishes.

 

"So were you."

 

"I know I was. That's why I've been thinking about you."

 

"So what have you been thinking of?"

 

"Kissing you again."

 

"What else?"

 

Sergio laughs.

 

"You really want to know?"

 

"Yeah. Of course."

 

Sergio can't possibly tell him  _how much_ he's been  _wanting_ him. Not only because it's hard to explain in words, but because he is too proud to reveal himself to be as desperate as he actually is. Although he might have already revealed that. He can't tell him that he's been thinking about kissing him and his lips have tingled at the thought. Like a teenager after his first make-out session. That if he thought too much about  _how much..._ he might freak out a little.

 

"I wanna show you," Sergio says

 

"Mmmm." 

 

A current goes through his body at the sound of Leo's moan. He presses a hand against his rock hard cock.

 

"I really want to see you, Leo."

 

"I want to see you too, Sergio."

 

He thinks about Leo's narrow waist and the curve of his ass. His heart is thudding painfully, and he feels weak with desire. 

 

"Sergio... _Sergio!_ Capitan! We're doing shots!" A group had descended upon Leo and Sergio that night, just as Sergio was sliding his hands down Leo's body to cup his ass pull it even closer to him.

 

They sprang apart quickly and Lucas had forced him to do shots, in honour of his goal he said, so he couldn't refuse. Sergio wasn't sure how much time passed between that moment and the situation calming down enough for him to look around for Leo. Leo was gone. For the night. No goodbyes, no messages, no texts, nothing.

 

Not getting something always made Sergio want it more, with double the intensity. Being physically away from Leo right now feels intolerable. 

 

"I can come to you," he says. It's impulsive, but he absolutely means it. Besides, would it really be worse than lying here thinking of Leo?

 

But then Leo laughs merrily. So indifferent and cool. Just like Messi. Okay.

 

"Okay."

 

"I'm sorry but you're being silly."

 

"I know," he says, sulkily.

 

It's time to hang up now. If he's not going to be crazy, he's got to be sensible. But Leo has him on the edge of losing it. 

 

He imagines Leo walking across his room. Maybe naked. Maybe wearing his shirt. He doesn't allow his mind to linger too much on  _that_  last thought.  _Not now,_ his inner voice admonishes him.

 

Sergio sighs.

 

"I wish you were here," he says, finally, uttering the understatement of the year.

 

There's a short silence. And Leo's voice is soft and gentle when he answers.

 

"If only."

 

 

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if Leo and Ramos have ever exchanged shirts? Someone tell me please!


End file.
